Darkly Intriguing
by Sapsorrow86
Summary: Belle French, antiques book dealer and restorer, find herself befriending and odd but compelling couple, Gomez and Morticia Addams. It is while she restores the family library that Cousin Rumple first stumbles into her, and the sparks are immediate. But the deeper Belle goes into the strange world of the Addams's the more worried friends and family members grow.
1. Prologue

**A/N: This was meant to be a crackfic to amuse myself and some friends but it's gotten such good response in other places that I thought I'd post it here. Enjoy!**

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Westfield was a quaint little town, near enough to New York to keep comfortably in touch with the collector's world through the many auction houses of renown and yet far enough to have a flattering air of small town charm. The Westfield Memorial Library kept Belle from purchasing every single book she wanted to read, and had a small section dedicated to rare books that she curated almost for free.

Her own shop, named on a whim _Pandora's Box_, had an old-time feel to it that helped display the merchandise, rows and rows of well-preserved old books, to its best advantage. From the antique register to the woods-inspired wallpaper and the old, solid bookcases, everything was geared towards creating an illusion of going back in time. The effect was whimsical and a bit dark, but Belle liked it that way. Rare Books shops were supposed to be places of wonder, of mystery, and she had strived hard to get her store to the way it was.

It didn't make much revenue, but it was a great place to conduct business. Her main income came from offering her services as a restorer of books and antiques, and she was quite sought-after, having quite a talent for the craft. It helped that she loved what she did, and that was passionate about it. She could loose herself in her work for hours, and talk about it for even longer.

Her friends indulged her a bit, but none were really interested in her… quirkier side. Mary Margaret was a dedicated school teacher that Belle was pretty sure got dressed with the help of woodland creatures. Ruby was only now getting serious about not just doing the bare minimum at her Granny's Diner, since she had discover her grandmother planned on leaving it to her and retiring in a couple of years. Abigail was a hard-ass lawyer who was brutally honest but surprisingly understanding and Emma, the Deputy Sheriff, was nice, but aloof. They all were nice, but sometimes she felt like they looked at her and only saw her oddities.

The shop Belle announced a customer, and so reluctantly Belle let go of the incunable she was painstakingly putting back together and walked out to the front. There she met someone she'd never seen before. She'd have remembered the glossy black hair or sinfully tight dress otherwise.

"Hello," she greeted, a genuine smile on her face. The customer certainly looked interesting "Can I help you?"

"I fervently hope so, dear."

Her lips were painted a vibrant red and though her smile was a bit on the sinister side there was also something very calm about her. Her voice was cultured and soft and she was surprisingly warm.

"You see, I'm afraid my well-worn Cologne edition of the Malleus Maleficarum had a rather unfortunate encounter with my children's newest pet, and was torn to pieces. I was looking to replace it as soon as possible but so far I've had little luck."

She seemed genuinely saddened by the loss of her beloved book, and Belle could certainly sympathize with that. She offered the woman a kind smile, fighting the urge to give her a small pat on the back. She didn't look much like a touchy-feely person and didn't want to make her uncomfortable.

"I'm so sorry to hear that," she offered the woman a seat "But I think you're just in luck, actually. Let me go check."

She ventured into the back to where she kept the rarest books, and carefully sorted through them till, sure enough, she found the 1520 copy of the Witches's Hammer. It was a lovely copy and Belle had purchased it more on a whim than anything else, at a relatively good price since it had been badly cared for. She'd managed to undo most of the damage.

She hurried back to the front, presenting the customer with the copy with a smile.

"It has some water damage to the leather cover it wasn't possible to repair, and some hand-written notations, since this was a copy used by Dominican monks in the Swiss cantons. Some pages on the third section sport a light splatter of what might be blood, probably from an interrogation session. Otherwise the book is in pristine conditions and, with the proper care, will last you and your family many years."

The woman seemed to like her description of the book, expertly flipping it open to the mentioned third section and lovingly tracing the dark red smudges that adorned the pages with her long, perfectly-manicured nails.

"Exquisite. And the leather binding is superb, dear, I can hardly see any damage. I'll take it."

Belle smiled even wider, taking the book carefully to wrap it up for the journey, caressing the spine with a sort of nostalgic affection.

"You look as if you will miss it." the customer observed, one fine eyebrow arched.

"Yes, well, sometimes I get too attached to the books, and this one in particular I spent countless hours restoring. But it's always nice to see them go to people who will actually read them and not just keep them in a shelf or a curio. I can tell you'll enjoy it very much."

The woman looked at her strangely, head tilted to a side and a speculative look in her eyes.

"I must say I rarely get such great service. Most people are inexplicably abrupt or nervous and they often stare in a very unbecoming way. And your shop is charming, dark and cold, a relief from the outside weather. Tell me, dear, do you happen to have any early editions of any book in the Index librorum prohibitorum et expurgatorum? I find myself with some time to do a bit of leisure reading and nothing to read."

It was quite a long list, and off the top of her head Belle could think of a number of books she either had or could get her hands on.

"Well, let's pull a copy of the list and then see what we can find in the inventory that matches and you haven't read. It might take a while, though, I hope you have the time."

"Darling, I rarely get to have a conversation involving heresy, debauchery and immorality with people outside of home, so it's a welcomed change."

Belle felt immediately relieved, not wanting her customer to go just yet. She offered her tea while they perused the list, and introduced herself by her full name, Isabelle French. The black-haired woman, surprisingly, extended a dainty, pale hand towards her, briefly pressing it against her own hand.

"Morticia Addams. And so call me by my first name, none of that 'Mrs Addams' nonsense. That just reminds me of the old hag that couldn't stop saying how unworthy I was of her son. Some people don't know when to let some things slide before it's too late."

"Then call me Belle, please."

She loved books and had a striking sense of humour. The brunette could already tell she was going to like Morticia a lot.


	2. Capter One

Belle hadn't known much about the Addams's before Motricia had stepped into her little Bookshop. She'd heard Emma mention them once or twice, as well as Mary Margaret but she hadn't much paid attention, which was a shame, since Morticia was one of the most interesting women she'd met in a while. Fluent in a number of languages, including Latin knowledgeable in history and literature as well as any other number of subjects and always eager to listen to her ramble about books, Morticia was the friend she'd been looking for since forever. So she offered her tea and tried to engage her in conversation while they looked through her inventory for whatever books she might have that would interest her. She was pleased to notice right away that Morticia seemed as eager to get know her as she was and, soon enough, she was invited to tea at the Addams's family house.

The experience was… eye-opening, really. The Victorian home was like a dream come true, old and full to the brim with exciting things to explore. Even the dust and cobwebs that marred some of the rooms just added to the wonderful atmosphere. Not one piece of furniture looked made in the last century, and all of it was ornate and expensive, but none of the members of the house acted like some people do with antiques. They weren't shy to use them, instead of treating them like mere decorations.

Lurch, the gigantic butler that came when she rung the bell, made her wary at first, but soon it became clear that, though a man of few words, he was gentle and observant. He took her coat and purse and lead her to the greenhouse, where Morticia was.

She wasn't alone, though. A hand, a single and disjointed hand, seemed to be playing cards with her. It was then that reality sunk for Belle. The Addams's were not merely eccentric they were something else, something that defied logic. She froze halfway across the room, and caught Morticia looking at her expectantly, head tilted slightly to a side and a small, placid smile on her lips. She clearly had no idea. She might know those outside her home were… different, but she was unaware of just how wide that gap was. She carefully approached the woman and the animated hand, trying to keep her mind open. The… thing seemed harmless, even friendly, and even pulled out a chair for her before pointing at the teapot on the table, clearly asking if she wanted a cup.

"Yes, please." she replied, bemused, and watched in amazement as whatever that was poured her a cup of tea and offered her cream and sugar, both which she accepted. Morticia introduced the helper as, quite fittingly, Thing. He was very useful and quite the gentleman and after spending the entire afternoon in his proximity Belle couldn't find him anything other than adorable. After the moving, body-less hand little else seemed to be able to faze her, from the rather "friendly" African Viper, Cleopatra, to the suits of armour that seemed more animated than they ought to, taking into account no one was actually in them.

The strangeness of the house didn't in any way detract from the lovely people inside. Belle met Gomez Addams on the first afternoon she spent at her new friend's home. The man, apart from being handsome, debonair and extremely well-dressed, was a picture-perfect gentleman and the most devoted husband Belle had ever seen. The air seemed to crackle with energy when Morticia and Gomez were together, and the fierce, unrestrained passion the woman seemed to be able to stir in him didn't seem to shame him or bother him. Morticia was much more subtle and calm but she was as smitten by her husband as he was by her.

Belle never regretted being single much, except when her helpful friends (minus Emma) tried to fix her up with someone. For her love was more mysterious than a blind date, even if she sometimes agreed to appease Ruby, but she never much cared that all she had was her books, her trade and her friends. She didn't feel like she was losing in on much by being single. But every now and then she met couples, like Gomez and Morticia, that caused something inside her to flutter, to long. It was a bitter-sweet feeling.

Gomez proved to be a marvellous conversationalist, at least when Morticia didn't French him into a frenzy. He was worldly entertaining, incredibly charismatic and surprisingly eager to get Belle to visit again. The more she knew the Addamses, really, the less she could understand why they weren't more popular around town. Even the children were charming in their own ways. Pugsley was respectful, curious and cheeky and Wednesday, though taciturn, was bright and observing. Having often been branded a "loner" or a "weird girl" Belle felt sort of a kinship with the black-haired teen, even though much of their personalities didn't match. Of all the members of the family she was the toughest to get to know, though Belle made a concerned effort.

One tea lead to another, and then a dinner. Soon enough Morticia's business with her book shop was done, but Gomez was quick to acquire her services to restore his rather unkept library. It was a beautiful room with large ornate windows covered by heavy drapes and rows and rows of dusty books. Belle discovered soon enough that those weren't like any sort of books like she'd ever encountered, and opening them required a lot of care and preferably Lurch nearby armed with an iron poker whenever he could be spared for a couple of hours (he'd been a godsend when she had accidentally dropped a copy of 20,000 leagues under the sea and it had opened to the scene featuring a kraken).

Belle grew surprisingly used to Kitty Kat, the family lion and Aristotle, Pugsley's rather affectionate octopus. She also grew to know where the poison ivy was planted, so as to avoid those areas. She hadn't noticed at first, till she'd been walking very close to it and, all of a sudden, a floofy-haired boy had appeared in front of her, halting her steps. He looked to be around six years old, with old-fashioned clothes and big, soulful eyes. He'd pointed at the plant and had muttered "no good" before walking away. It wasn't until she had seen him that first time that she noticed he seemed to lurk somewhere around her quite often, hiding and peeking around to watch her, but always bolting when she tried to entice him to approach. Once she had gotten caught by Gate, but he'd showed her how to stroke just under the heavy rings to coax it to open. He had also saved her when the main hall's bear rug had gotten a hold of her purse while she hadn't been paying attention. Every time they interacted he seemed more curious about her, and less frightened, but he always scurried away when she tried to approach him.

Grandmother Frump was the one to tell her that the boy's name was Bae, the son of one of the many Addams cousins. Once she knew his name it was easier to get him to approach. He always lurked in her vicinity, but now he was willing to come closer and maybe exchange a word or two. He seemed fascinated by the vibrant colour of her clothes, or her hair. He seemed to love it most when she pulled away the curtains of the library, to let the light in. She supposed the house was a bit on the gloomy side and if the boy loved sunlight it might not be very pleasant.

He didn't come to the house often, but when he did he hovered around her, answering her questions in monosyllables and observing her with his big brown eyes. It was enough to make her melt. Everything about the Addamses was warm and inviting in a strange, novel sort of way. It was a bit like being transported into another, fascinating world, dark but not unwelcoming. It was fascinating and she didn't mind the looks she got from her friends every time she said she was going to Cemetery Lane.

When she finished cataloguing the whole east wall of the library she did an embarrassing but thankfully private little dance of joy and moved on to the next section. She used the ladder Lurch always set out for her to tackle the windows she'd previously left untouched. She'd need all the sunlight she could get to make her job easier. The heavy velvet curtains did not yield to her tugs like the others had. Someone, she realized with a huff, had nailed to curtains down. She thought of calling for Lurch, but the nails looked old and half-out already, and it was very likely that they wouldn't resist against a heartfelt tug. She leaned out slightly, taking a hold of the plum-coloured fabric before summoning all of her strength and yanking hard. She realized she'd miscalculated the second she heard a loud rip. Suddenly there was nothing to hold on to and she was falling rapidly towards what she knew to be a very hard marble floor. She had but a second to lament wearing pumps and climbing ladders before her descent was cut short, rather abruptly. For a moment she wondered if something "odd" had happened, like it usually did around the house, but soon she became aware of arms under her knees and on her back. She turned her head to a side, encountering a leather, clad chest and a dark gold shirt with the top buttons undone, showing… golden skin?

"What are you doing, dearie?"

The accented voice made her look up, realizing she'd been staring rather rudely at someone's exposed collarbone. The first thing she noticed was the pair of gold eyes, pupils larger than they should be, and the mass of curly, wild hair. The man had a shimmery, golden sort of skin and yellow teeth and smelled like leather and something sweet, almost too sweet. he was wearing, as far as she could see, a high-collared waistcoat of a deep orangey colour as well as a poet-sleeved silk shirt. He was looking at her with curiosity and a hint of something else, something that seemed to make him vulnerable. He didn't seem to know what to do with his mouth, whether to smile, frown or grimace.

"Thank you," she managed to stutter when she regained her voice, unconsciously smiling a bit "I was trying to get some light in, but I guess the ladders and the heels were not a good combination."

He glanced away from her face, seeming to take in her whole body till his eyes spotted her wine-coloured peep-toes. It was then that he became agitated, almost dropping her in his haste to let go. She stumbled back a step, regaining quickly her balance as the stranger's hands fluttered close to her, nervous.

"Glad to be of help, dearie."

He had a high-pitched voice and a delicious accent she couldn't quite place, and it made her shiver. He was quite striking and Belle felt herself blushing against her will.

"Belle," she didn't like him calling her dearie, for some reason. My name is Belle. Belle French. And you are…?"

At that the stranger seemed to gain a sort of confidence, stepping back and bowing in a grandiose manner.

"Rumplestiltskin Addams at your service," he introduced himself, giggling before straightening and looking at her with his head tilted to a side, as if measuring her "And what, if I might enquire, is someone such as yourself doing alone in the library? These books, my dear, can be quite dangerous."

Belle felt the urge to return his gesture with a curtsey, and she saw it delighted him.

"If you must know I've been hired by Mr Addams to restore his library. I'm… quite aware of the particular properties of these books, but it was nice of you to warn me."

Whatever she had said or done seemed to puzzle him and entrance him, like he found her incredibly fascinating, for some reason, when he was the one wearing sinfully tight leather pants and had golden skin. She, in comparison, was as plain as they came.

"Oh, and how did my most excellent cousin retain your services?"

Though she should've felt offended by the immediate and rather tactless scrutiny the newcomer was quite charming, all flamboyant gestures and little quirks.

"Well, Morticia and I met a few months ago and became friends. When her husband found out what I did he decided it was the time to restore the library to its former glory," she gently caressed the spine of a book she'd placed atop a neat pile of tomes in need of some serious work "It's a rather big undertaking, but a very rewarding one at the same time."

An explosion somewhere near the children's rooms rocked the house, and a spooked African lion burst into the room, attempting to hide underneath a reading table behind Belle. She rolled her eyes, reaching out to softly pat the animal on the head. He snuffled at her before settling down, curling up on the rug and purring.

"Sometimes the kids are too rough on Kitty Kat. He's getting on in years, I think."

Rumplestiltskin looked at her with such a befuddled, confused expression that for a moment she thought if she might have spoken in an entire different language. There was a strange vulnerability in his confusion, and it sparked something inside her.

"You seem rather well-acquainted with the house and the people in it. And so at ease."

His tone was so full of wonder and incredulity that it gave Belle pause.

"Ah, there you are, Rumple, old man. I've been looking everywhere for you."

Gomez Addams's voice startled Belle out of her musings, and she checked her watch, noticing how the room was much too dark.

"Oh, God, I totally lost track of time," she begun gathering her purse and things, barely batting an eye when Lurch all but materialized from thin air and helped her into her coat "I'll be back tomorrow at the same time, as usual. And it was a pleasure to meet you, Mr Addams."

She flashed him a smile, and the man took her hand, bowing and lightly kissing her knuckles.

"Rumplestiltskin, dear, no need for formalities."

With one last smile she hurried out of the room, not noticing the pair of golden eyes riveted to her back nor the speculative way in which the master of the house watched the entire scene. Taking his cigar out of his mouth Gomez looked down, catching Thing's attention.

"Are you seeing what I'm seeing, my friend? Oh, wait till Tish hears about this…"


	3. Chapter Two

He had gone to his cousin's house purely on a business matter. Gomez had yet to replace his deceased accountant, a snivelling little fellow whose name escaped him, so he kept an eye out. As lucky as his cousin was in business matters it didn't hurt to have a second look and Gomez wasn't unpleasant about it, hardly so. It was nice to visit family too, he supposed, and Bae seem to be growing more and more attached to them. Morticia had proposed his son visit them often, if only to have a strong female presence in his life. Both Ticia and her mother doted on the boy, uncaring of his slight oddities. Besides they had two sons and Bae needed to be around young children.

Though at first Baelfire hadn't been much enthused lately he had demanded more and more to be allowed to go. It was easy enough to allow him have one of the cars, Dove always ready to chauffer the little Master wherever he needed to go. He worried about the lad sometimes. He knew he wasn't enough for Bae, that the kid wanted things he didn't know how to give him, but he did his best, trying to atone for the mistake of having married Milah on the first place. He should've seen her true colours, her intentions. Instead he had been seduced by the sheer novelty of her, her uniqueness.

Since that had gone to Hell he'd become a bit of a recluse, mostly keeping to his large estate, raising his boy and dealing as was his practice. He attended religiously his meetings at the Alchemy Society, of course, and Gomez insisted he come to the Club, to smoke a bit with the men and let their females cavort with the Hellish creatures of the night without them being in the way, but other than that he only got out to deal, and nothing more.

Then that Tully fellow had died, quite a nuisance, and Gomez and Fester had roped him into coming over to their house at least once a month to look over the books. They were always insistent he should visit more often- well, at least Gomez was. Fester, he believed, was back at the Bermuda Triangle- but he never gave in. He liked his home, and his grounds, liked his deals and his solitude. He had his boy, he had Dove to serve as the all-encompassing servant… He didn't need much more.

He slid up the stairs of cousin Gomez's… dusty mansion with a fake air of glee, wearing his persona like a shield. He left his coat with Lurch at the main hall, high-fiving Thing before going directly to the study and shutting himself in there. It was an organized mess, no Addams was ever anything but chaotic, but he soon found quill, ink and the appropriate figures to study, even if they were buried under a mountain of ancient rapiers. Gomez's estate was vast, but he only ever looked at the most basic holdings, letting everything else languish in limbo. Let some other idiot worry about unexploited lands in Transylvania or Orient Express shares.

When he finished setting the affairs in order, confident Gomez could undo his work in a matter of days, he stretched out and glanced at the old Grandfather clock beside him. The hour had grown late and he wanted to have supper with Bae, so he decided to look for Gomez to say his goodbyes. It'd be bad manners not to. Sadly his cousin seemed to be nowhere, and neither was Morticia, though she usually was easy to find, out in the Greenhouse clipping roses.

A slight noise caught his attention and he went to inspect who it was, praying he'd finally managed to locate the man or the lady of the house. He followed the noise all the way to the East Library, illuminated still by the setting sun. Inside he found a strange sort of creature perched atop a ladder. It was small and seemed to be made of light, and for a moment he wondered if there was some sort of fairy in the Library. The soft curves let him know it was a woman and for a moment he just stood there, head tilted to a side and eyes wide open, drinking her in. She was exquisite, creamy skin and chestnut hair glowing as if from within, a short blue dress draped around her form. She wiggled atop the ladder in a delectable way, apparently struggling with the heavy velvet curtains in front of her. He approached her cautiously, trying to remain silent so he could study her to his heart's content. She didn't look like the typical fairies he saw in books. Instead of a waifish figure she was rounded, her hips generous and her legs toned. She did have exquisite hair, a deep brown that shone bronze when the afternoon light hit it just right, and pale skin, with a touch of colour that rendered it creamy instead of sallow, like most of his acquaintances.

'twas a mysterious creature, for sure, one that demanded further study. As a scholar it was his duty to approach the little fairy and observe her for a while. He anticipated the fall the moment he saw her lean over a wee bit too much and so it was easy to catch her as she fell, his arms suddenly full of warmth. She smelled… nothing like mustiness or cobwebs for once. There was a hint of leather, a faint scent of old paper and an underlying, fresh aroma, like tea leaves, green lilac, orange and water lily. It got into his nose, and from it into his blood, making it buzz pleasantly inside his veins. For a second he thought she might be enchanted in a way, or clearly dangerous for him, but when she raised her eyes to his he immediately dismissed the notion: those eyes were incapable of deceit. They were also mesmerizing. She had deep rose lips and fine, slanted eyebrows up close and he struggled with something to say. He should speak. Anything, really, would suffice.

"What are you doing, dearie?"

He was known amongst his friends and relatives for his wit and genius. If they could see him now, clutching at some sprite like he was afraid she'd hop out of his arms and asking inane questions, he'd be hearing about it for centuries.

The little creature blushed and stammered, but the overall effect was charming, especially the way she'd look up at him from under her lashes. At some point he had the good sense of depositing her back on her feet, suddenly getting too warm and fuzzy in the head. He paid enough attention to learn her name- which, of course, was Beauty- and had enough wit and poise to bow, letting his impish side take over as he introduced himself. With a bit of his old flare back he decided to ferret out the truth about how such a person had wound up inside the old Addams's library. She told him about befriending Morticia and getting a job restoring the old books, which she apparently knew were quite dangerous. She seemed uncannily unfazed by her surroundings, even when Kitty Kat burst into the library and all but hid behind her. Mangy old thing, but he couldn't blame him for being scared of Gomez's progeny.

It was the man of the house, of course, the one to interrupt his quaint little moment with the sun fairy named Beauty. An interruption was all it took for the sprite to realize the time, hastily don her coat and bid him farewell, dashing out of the library like something out of some strange dream. For a moment he stood there, a little bit dazed by her lingering scent in the air, barely managing to snap himself out of it when he heard his cousin chuckle.

"Thing here was telling me you were about to leave, Rumple. Might I entice you to stay for a little bit and have a drink?"

As much as he wished to say no and play at being aloof he found himself agreeing to the proposal with embarrassing speed. Soon enough he was back at Gomez's study, holding a large bucket glass of some not-so-mediocre Bourbon and talking about nothing in particular. When he deemed enough time had passed he enquired, with as nonchalant a tone as he could muster, after the woman named Beauty.

"Hardly the kind of person one usually finds in your house, Gomez."

He kept his voice impish, an irreverent trill that no one took seriously. Gomez parried with his own blank look of careless idiocy, that smile that made people think he was naive and blind to the obvious. Rumplestiltskin, however, knew better.

"Belle? Ah, great girl. Morticia and her are kit and kin, thick as thieves. She's here almost every day, either working or visiting. Lovely woman, really, and quite a nice sport when she accidentally got locked in one of the dungeons."

Rumple knew enough to deduce "accidentally" meant Pugsley and Wednesday had been involved, which usually implied there was more to that story than his cousin was telling. Probably something involving knives or a pit of fire.

"I see. And… she gets along with everyone? Lurch? Thing?"

The hand bobbed up and down eagerly before shivering and seeming to sigh dreamily.

"Thing adores her, but I think it's Lurch the one who is more besotted. He's been helping her out at the Library and I swear he blushes around her, though with Lurch is a bit hard to tell. Not much blood flowing anywhere, you see."

It was good, wasn't it? It meant the chit wasn't a threat, wasn't about to try and have the entire family burned at the stake, like it usually went down. But for some odd reason Gomez's words, far from calming him, made his temper flare up.

"I see. Well, it's quite late, and Bae is waiting. I think I'll be going."

He tried to ignore Gomez's knowing little grin as he departed, pausing at the door to let Lurch help him into his dragonhide coat. The imp looked up at the towering servant, trying not to let his irrational anger towards him show. Finally he stepped out into the night, letting a soft cloud of purple mist carry him home.

* * *

He tried very hard not to think of the little fairy as he went about his business the next day, or the one after that. So the girl was intriguing, so she didn't run away when most "normal" people did, so she smelled like a dream… That didn't mean he should keep replaying how she'd fallen right into his arms, or how warm she'd felt… Himself, as well as any Addams, was notoriously cold to the touch, and as he hardly ever touched anyone outside of family he was quite unused to body heat. Bae was sometimes lukewarm, but touching him had never felt… quite like touching the sprite.

It was with an embarrassing feeling of delight that he realized he was missing a fountain pen he usually carried around. He had, of course, used it while going through his cousin's accounts so it stood to reason that he had left it there. He donned his coat and gloves in seconds and was out of his large estate a moment later.

when he arrived at the mansion he made a concerted effort to mutter something about a "missing pen" as he handed Lurch his coat. He took the long way to the study, passing the library and making it seem like slowing down was paramount. But when he glimpsed inside the room was cold and dreary, no traces of sunlight anywhere. Disappointment welled up inside of him and, reluctantly, he moved on towards the study, fishing out his pen from under a mountain of old deeds and paperwork. It was on his way out that he heard it: laughter. It didn't sound malicious, so that left both of the children out, nor deranged, which meant it wasn't Grandmother Frump or Gomez. Morticia rarely laughed, so he doubted it was her. It took a few tried to find out the source but, finally, he came across Beauty playing fetch with Kitty Kat, laughing when the lion turned on its back so she'd scratch his belly. Nanny, the lioness he had bought Bae for his second birthday, behaved sometimes in a similar manner, and his wee boy loved it.

He watched from the shadows as the sprite and the lion played, trying to watch for any signs that he'd missed with Milah. She didn't seem any more afraid than the last time, and her smile seemed genuine (and he could tell because it made him stomach flip in a way that was both pleasant and unpleasant). Even though she stuck out amongst the dark surroundings with her bright yellow blouse and grey skirt she didn't seem uncomfortable or weary. She just seemed… perfect.

The moment that dangerous little thought crossed his mind he practically fled the room, and the house.

* * *

In the following days he thought up a thousand and one little excuses to visits Gomez and Morticia's house. A missing cufflink, an important document he just HAD to take a look at… Anything was good enough to allow him to pop by and casually observe his little Beauty from afar. He kept telling himself he was trying to double-check that the lass was not a potential threat to his beloved cousin and his charming wife. Someone had to be responsible and keep guard. Everyone else was too trusting but he knew better. He would keep the little sprite constantly in his sight if need be. He was doing the selfless thing for the good of the family.

Soon he came to the surprising conclusion, however, that the sun fairy was not a threat. She was utterly sincere in her acceptance of the Addams's… little quirks, sometimes seeming even to enjoy them. He thought he'd be glad to know his fears had been unfounded, but he found himself missing an excuse to spy on the pretty thing. Usually beauty didn't call out to him the way it did others but his mind seemed to constantly circle around her. He wished it was just her unusual looks, her glossy hair and blue eyes but, alas, it seemed to go beyond that. He caught himself thinking of her smile, or the kindness and warmth she seemed to radiate. As much as she unsettled him he longed to have her near, to speak with her, to have her make him deliciously uncomfortable and pleasantly buzzed.

He'd hoped to go by unnoticed, but it wasn't really a surprise when Gomez came by him as he hid under a potted plant to watch Belle shelf books. His cousin patted him on the shoulder, offered him a cigar and hauled him towards the study.

"So, old man, it has finally happened."

Rumple fought hard not to squirm on his seat, lighting the cigar instead, taking a big puff to settle his nerves. He was more partial to pipes, himself, but he'd take whatever he could get.

"I've no idea what you mean, Gomez. Please, don't be coy. It doesn't suit you, dearie."

The younger man smiled, completely at ease. His cousin was dreadfully hard to read, perhaps because people always expected complete and utter honesty out of him, and he delivered that only 99% of the time.

"You've finally come out of your shell, of course!" He was quite enthusiastic, his grin manic and his eyes alight "After all those years being a bore and cloistering yourself up on that castle of yours, with only your son and Dove for company… You had us worried, old man. Insanity is all well and good, but no one likes a bore, Rumple, and you were well on your way to becoming one. Now I see you make up silly excuses to come and visit family… I'm touched."

He rose from the chair to embrace him- Gomez always forgot how much Rumple loathed to be touched- and patted him in the back for good measure. The imp, hardly daring to believe he'd gotten away with spying on the little Beauty, managed a twisted smile and a shrug of the shoulders.

"Yes, well… I thought it was about time."

A plan begun to form, taking shape inside his mind. After all, his dear cousin was right. After years of near solitude all it had taken was a bit of sunlight to ferret him out, and it would be a shame to go back to his old ways. He would, even if it was just for Bae's sake, be out and about more. Visit his cousin, chat with his lovely wife, get to know the town.

And he'd see her again. Talk to her, provoke her smiles and use her to shake off years of dust and loneliness. Figure her out, see what was about her that fascinated him so, indulge a little bit as a reward for his turning a new leaf, but always keeping a certain, safe distance. Always.

Bae would be happy, he had no doubt. He so wanted to understand his son… Perhaps the little fairy could help. Her light was so much like what he saw in his son sometimes, surrounded by the darkness the boy had inherited from him.

Rumplestiltskin suppressed the urge to giggle, suddenly gleeful. He always liked to have a plan.

Little did he know he wasn't the only one scheming.


	4. Chapter Three

Rumplestiltskin sauntered inside the Addams's Victorian mansion with a bit of extra swagger on his step. He left his dragonhide coat with Lurch, who grunted in return, and made his way to the library, no thoughts of greeting his cousin or his wife on his mind. It was better if they didn't know he was there. If he was discovered he could make up an excuse about just dropping by for a document or a potion ingredient. He climbed the stairs two steps at a time. He felt energized, almost gleeful. And of course he would. He had a new mystery to uncover in the form of the exquisite little fae nestled away inside the library. He tried to tone down his eagerness as he came to stand in front of the half-opened doors, poking his head inside.

"Good afternoon, dea…"

The woman, Belle, was perched atop a ladder, bare-foot and dressed in a lovely pale blue dress. She was looking down at the floor and, really, no wonder, since it seemed to be covered in a lava-like substance. It didn't seem to be affecting the books- nor would it, taking into account that those weren't common books- but most of the furniture seemed to be melting/burning into the mixture, including the unfortunate ladder. Thankfully it was made of iron and not wood but, still, it had a very short life span. She smiled the moment she spotted him and it almost blinded him. There was relief in her eyes but also genuine warmth and welcome.

"Oh, hello." she replied to his unfinished greeting, acting as if, really, the floor weren't made of lava. She sounded hoarse and the arms holding onto the ladder trembled as if from exhaustion. She was also trying hard to keep her balance as the steps melted and sunk into the volcanic-like substance. "Rumplestiltskin Addams, right?"

The fact that she remembered his name, and that she'd said it out loud made him shiver all over. He nodded, tilting his head to the side to contemplate her predicament.

"Call me presumptuous, my Lady, but you look like you could use some help. Might I offer my assistance?"

Being flamboyant and grand helped, but it was a chore to keep up the facade in front of her. He had the feeling she could see right past him and it made him want to squirm. It was an odd, uncomfortable sensation but not necessarily a bad one.

"I do hate to be a bother but I wouldn't mind a safe path out of the room, if it wouldn't inconvenience you too much."

A part of him was rather demanding she break into hysterics like he expected… normal people to do. Instead she was the picture of manners and decorum, calm and collected as she smiled across the room in his direction. He stepped into the library, the lava parting around his feet to let him pass without so much as a hiss. He saw her eyes widen as well as her smile and he saw appreciation and admiration in her gaze. He mentally preened, pleased beyond words to be in her good graces.

When he reached her he almost lost his composure, realizing he'd need to carry her out of the room. Tentatively she climbed down till she could loop her arms around his neck and he could wrap his around her back and under her knees. For a moment he simply held her- trying to adjust his grip, of course, lest he lose this sunny little fairy specimen to a bit of artificially-made molten rock-, trying not to inhale too much of her perfume, which he found rather intoxicating. It was… fresh, while most things in his world tended to be dark and musty.

"I really do appreciate this a lot." She looked up to talk to him and the feel of her breath on the place where his neck met his jaw was really, really distracting. They made it unscathed to the hallway, where he sat her down on an ornate armchair, acting as though she was made out of spun glass.

"Those are rather lovely feet, dearie, but aren't they supposed to be covered by shoes?"

The fact that his voice didn't waver or reach an incredibly-high pitch was a testament to his self-control. He was also pretty amazed he could string more than two words together with his skin still tingling from her warmth. Silly sun fairies.

"Sadly I left them on the floor when I climbed atop the ladder and they got… consumed by the lava. That's not a sentence I ever expected to utter."

She was pinning the front locks of her hair back as she talked to him and he could see her arms trembling from the effort. She must have been on that ladder for quite some time.

"Well, it wasn't exactly lava. It was man-made."

Belle shook her head fondly and looked up the main stairs, barely visible at the end of the corridor. Sure enough, clinging from the balustrade were Pugsley and Wednesday. The moment they were spotted they scurried up and out of sight, presumably to hide from whatever reprimand they might get. Rumple frowned, thinking that Gomez wasn't strict enough with his brood. Then again, his parents hadn't been very strict with him or his brother ei…

She was touching him. She had taken one of his hands in both of hers and was squeezing gently. His breath hitched, and his hand twitched. Surely this strange phenomenon could be attributed to her fairy status. He certainly had never reacted in such a way with Milah. She was also smiling, which he knew had strange effects on him.

"Thank you so much for your assistance. I've never been prone to playing the part of the damsel in distress, but I'm glad that you were there both times to help."

He felt his own lips curl into an unused, bashful sort of grin. Suddenly he was a young lad caught in his first infatuation.

"'twas nothing, dearie."

He tried to shrug the whole thing off but, damn it all, she was still holding one of his hands in hers and he was starting to get dizzy from the heat of her. Her smile was small and coupled with the spark in her eyes seemed to suggest she knew better than to believe him. Imprudent little sprite.

"Well, since you are currently shoe-less, my dear, I feel rather obliged to see my rescue safely through. My car is just outside. I could drop you off anywhere in town."

It was an honest offering, but it was also a test. He expected her to demurely recoil, the barest hint of panic or uneasiness in her eyes at the thought of being seen around with him but, yet again, Belle acted in an unexpected way, her cheeks reddening slightly before he ducked her face and looked at him through her lashes.

"Are you sure I wouldn't be a bother?"

It was difficult to string two words together when the little sun fairy was being unassumingly coquettish but he managed to croak something out that apparently passed for an answer. He toyed with the idea of offering to carry her to the front door but he knew his nerves wouldn't survive such close proximity. Better to quit while he was ahead. He flitted around her, spending all his nervous energy as he walked. He told her interesting things about certain paintings or pieces of furniture they passed along the way. She seemed to respond with genuine interest, her eyes following him around attentively, a smile curving her lips. He amused her. Not repulsed her, or disturbed her, but amused her.

Lurch barely blinked at seeing them leave together but, then again, he wasn't known for his expressive face. He hadn't brought a car, of course, but a bit of magic had easily transported his 1952 Bentley to the front steps of the house. He ushered her inside, worrying she might hurt her feet otherwise, and donned his coat before slipping into the driver's seat. It was only when he shut the door that he realized he was, quite effectively, locked in a confined space with his research specimen, who was, apparently, rubbing herself up against the upholstery.

"I love the smell of leather." She sighed, a sound so exquisite it made something inside him stir, and closed her eyes.

"Thank you again for rescuing me. My arms and legs were getting tired and I had screamed myself hoarse."

He looked at her from the corner of his eyes as he drove past Gate. She did, indeed, look a bit dishevelled, and tired. But she'd been smiling so brightly when he'd chanced upon her that he hadn't realized fully the danger she'd been immersed in. He suppressed the flare of anger that rose up inside, as well as the stab of worry. He needed to keep his distance. He was studying this sprite, this… Belle, so he could better understand people who were not like him. That way he could be a better parent to Bae.

He asked for her address and she gave it to him without any hint of hesitation. She then proceeded to draw him into conversation. As they drove through town she pointed out places she liked: the public library, a park, an ice-cream parlour. He took mental notes, figuring Bae would get a kick out of a small trip for ice-cream, even if it meant people staring. And maybe afterwards they could stroll through that park Belle had mentioned and, perhaps, go see the spot by the duck pond she was so fond of reading by and, if they happened to find her there, drenched in sunlight and smelling of vanilla, then…

"It's right here."

The fairy's voice snapped him out of his day-dreams. He turned his head to a side to spot an old, charming little store, it's window displaying an array of leather-bound books. It was old-fashioned and a wee bit Gothic. He approved.

"That's my shop, and I live in the apartment above it. Thank you again for… well, for everything. Good bye, Mr Addams."

She smiled at him and, quite suddenly and with no warning whatsoever, wrapped her arms loosely about him. Then she was gone, hopping to her little shop and out of sight and leaving him strangely cold in his loneliness. He snapped out of his silly little musings, driving away and determinately not looking at the rear-view mirror.

He tried to stay away from Gomez's house and was quite successful at it… for three hold days. On the fourth one he was slipping a wine-coloured vest over a golden shirt and magicking himself somewhere on a hallway. He checked the library with as much nonchalance as he could possibly muster, trying not to look too disappointed when he saw it was empty. He continued to look for her, telling himself that it'd not do to leave a stranger, an outsider, roaming the halls. He found her in a drawing room, studying an odd, exotic-looking plant with thick, fat leaves and exquisite purple flowers of considerable size, all sadly closed. From a distance it looked like a Purple Backstabber but he was sure Morticia knew better than to leave such a…

He watched Belle turn her back on the potted plant, and saw the petals of the biggest flower open wide, revealing sharp darts hidden inside. Before he could realize he was moving he found himself crashing against Belle, both toppling to the floor. He landed atop her, almost every square inch of skin snuggle pressed against warm, supple flesh and his eyes threatened to roll behind his head. It was too much warmth, and too much softness, and the scent of her was driving him crazy with… something. It felt like all of him was tingling, his blood humming in his veins… eager.

Dark, wonderful impulses bloomed to the forefront of his mind. _Pin her down,_ they said,_make her submit. Make her yield. Make her beg._

**_Take her._**

As quickly as those insidious voices came they left him, chased away by the warmth of his little sun fairy. He struggled to hold himself above her so as to avoid crushing her but their legs had gotten entangled in the fall, which made trying to actually get up a bit of an undertaking. His utter lack of concentration didn't help matters either.

"Are you okay?" Belle's voice was worried, a tiny frown marrying her face. He just looked down at her, eyes wide as saucers and lips parted.

_"You're so warm."_

The utter incredulity and awe in his voice was plain for all to hear. He let out an inconvenient little giggle, dropping his gaze in embarrassment before he realized that doing so meant staring at her chest. He quickly pulled his eyes back up, watching as a slow smile formed on her face.

"Thank you." She replied, a bit uncertainly. "I hope this is not too presumptuous of me but… might I enquire as to what we're doing on the floor?"

He let out another shrill little giggle, thanking the Gods his skin didn't lend itself to blushing all that much, though it did subtly change colours with his mood. He cleared his throat and pointed with a nod of his head towards the plant. As soon as Belle looked at it the petals of the opened flower closed up again.

"That, my dear, is a Purple Backstabber, from the depths of the Amazon rainforest, named after its poisoned darts, which it hides beneath the closed petals. It strikes its pray after it's turned its back on it, firing the dart and killing almost instantly. Which does beg the question as to what it's doing here. Morticia keeps her backstabbers on a special part of the hothouse. I'd know, I nag her for dart samples often enough."

Belle looked at the plant again, this time with a bit of apprehension, and seemed to cuddle up close to him, away from the flowers.

"Oh."

There was too much curiosity in her tone for her to be anything but mildly disturbed and he heaved out a sigh. Truly, for such a small woman, she seemed to be unflappable. Quite disconcerting.

He finally managed to scramble up, keeping his eyes on the plant so Belle could stand up and dust herself off. He motioned for her to leave the room first and started walking backwards to the exit when he saw it. A tiny thimble, and a tin soldier, almost too melted to be recognizable, both placed beside the flowerpot.

Pugsley and Wednesday again, it seemed. Those little brats were beginning to be troublesome.

* * *

What became clear from that day on was that, really, Rumplestiltskin couldn't possibly keep away, lest his exquisite little sprite finally find herself in a bind she couldn't get out of. He couldn't very well study her once dead, at least not in the way he wanted, so it fell upon him to keep her out of harm's reach every time she was at the Addams's. It was quite easy to bribe Thing. The hand was a reckless gambler and had racked up quite the debt with him. He'd promise to forgive it all for updates on the "French Girl" without Gomez or Morticia finding out. So far it was paying off. It also meant that, at least once a week, he had to scramble to save the tiny would-be librarian's life. He was at once appalled and impressed with the young Addams's creativity regarding "pranks". From crocodiles and pendulums to nerve gas and cursed Incan relics they'd tried most things he could think of to scare the sun fairy. Nothing ever seemed to work, though most things seemed to include a lot of touching in the rescue process, except the many times he arrived only to see Belle had somehow managed to extricate herself from the problem. She was… quite inventive. And flexible, oh so flexible…

Though it did mean he didn't get to touch her, watching Belle come up with creative ways to get herself out of whatever predicament the Addams children had concocted up for her was highly entertaining. He didn't let her know he was there, figuring that some observation while undetected was probably needed for his… research. The ease with which she shrugged of the incidents both impressed him and puzzled him.

It was afternoon when Thing let him know, through a call and some Morse code, that the little fairy was flitting about the mansion again. He heeded the call at once, a cloud of purple smoke taking him from his work room to one of the many corridors of his cousin's mansion. He strolled around, looking out for flames, predators of any kind or oozing chemical substances but saw none. Nor could he hear screaming of any kind, which he guessed was good… or not.

He did pick up the sound of giggles, and he followed till he came at the end of a long hallway, nothing but a closet door and a table full of wilted flowers there. He was about to leave when he heard faint, muffled noises coming from the closet. When he opened it to peek inside he felt someone shove him roughly on the back. He toppled forward and onto the tiny storage space, the door slamming shut behind him. He huffed in annoyance, breathing in the stale air inside with a moue of distaste. He let his eyes adjust themselves to the darkness and glanced around him. Nothing but a lot of dust and an assortment of knickknacks. He was examining a rather nasty-looking mounted dingo when he heard a broken, snuffling sound. He turned on his heels, finding no one. But when he looked down he saw a form huddled on a corner, a curtain of hair obscuring its face from view. But there was no mistaking those curls, or the trace of water lily over the mustiness in the air. She was trembling, curled up on a ball and rocking slowly and when he concentrated he could hear her crying.

"Miss… Belle?"

At the sound of her name she looked up, and he saw raw, primal fear in her eyes. It was a shocking sight, but not as shocking as watching her jump up and wrap herself tightly around him, "forcing" him to drape his arms around her as well.

"Rumplestiltskin."

She sighed out his name as if it was the sweetest word she'd ever heard and the magician had to fight the urge to melt into a puddle of sexually-charged goo. Then she sobbed loudly and shuddered and he tightened his grip on her, helpless to do anything but wish for her to smile in that calm, unflappable way of hers and just be fine. The five minutes he spent holding her felt like hours, half-pleasure and half-pain.

"What's… what's wrong, sweet?"

The endearment left his mouth before he could think better of it, but she didn't seem to notice it. He kept clinging to him, warm and soft but also trembling and tense and he didn't know if he was losing his mind from the contact or from seeing her in distress. She was terrified, the fear oozing out of her. It took a long time for her to even try to speak, and when she did it was halting, choked.

"I… I… Someone pushed me in and… they locked the door. I… I don't like enclosed spaces, and it was all dark and no one would answer or open the door." She paused and grabbed the lapels of his vest with her hands in an effort, apparently, to fuse their bodies together. He fought not to be distracted by the scent and feel of her, concentrating in how scared she was.

"Nothing to fear, poppet. You're not alone now. We'll get out."

He stroked her back awkwardly, wondering why on Earth he'd been so eager to see her fear. It was horrible and it made him feel even worse. Surreptitiously he tried to turn the pommel of the door, finding it predictably unyielding. He let his magic seep into it, annoyed to discover that, like most of the house, the door was imbued with a bit of its own magic and right now the door was listening to its master's children and not him.

"Keep talking, sweet. Come on, talk books, or things you like to do. Humour me."

As he concentrated on setting them free she mumbled things into his chest, her warm breath washing over him in delicious puffs. Finally, after some very forceful little spells, he managed to pry the damn door open, quickly herding Belle outside, up the hall and into a big drawing room. She collapsed on a dusty couch, breathing in deeply. He could see how pale and… un-Belle-like she looked, jittery and withdrawn and it made him feel…

Oh, no.

No, no, no, no.

"Feeling better?"

He fought the urge to sink to his knees before her and offer her whatever she wanted. Belle nodded from her spot on the couch, lifting her eyes to look at him. She had a smile back on her face, albeit a tremulous one and it made him sigh in relief.

"Yes, I can see colour returning to your cheeks. That's… that's good. Yes." He fidgeted on the spot. "I… I better go have conversation with Gomez regarding his little hellions. Someone needs to point out that they're getting too rowdy."

"Please, don't be too harsh."

The imp gaped at her.

"Says the woman that ten minutes ago was sobbing in my arms. The brats crossed a line, dearie, and it needs to be pointed out. They could've hurt you."

He knew he was being too obvious in his concern but he couldn't stop himself. She smiled sadly, shaking her head.

"They didn't know I… That I'd react that way. They were just having some fun. Please, don't be too harsh. For me?"

She took one of his hands in both of hers and he let out a tiny, content sound that he squashed immediately. He avoided looking at her in the eyes, but nodded all the same. She hugged him then, lingering for a second or two.

"Thank you, Mr Addams."

He saw her out before he hunted his cousin down. As he predicted he was on his study, playing darts with Thing. He greeted the imp with a smile and an offer of a cigar when he entered, the imp barely missing a dart to his eye.

"So good to see you, old man. Dropping by for a chat or do you need something?"

Rumplestiltskin Addams fidgeted, opening and closing his mouth several times before he blurted out:

"I think I might be in trouble… Or in love." He paused, a frown on his face as he seemed to try to figure something out. "Or maybe both." He tilted his head to a side. "Yes, both. I need help."

Gomez Addams smiled wildly, putting his cigar out before he patted his cousin rather forcefully on the back.

"Finally, old man! For a moment you had me fearing it'd take you months to realize it. I was about to ask Morticia's mother to slip something on your food next time you came to dine to move matters along."

He practically shoved Rumple into a chair, handing him a cigar and congratulating him several times more.

"It has finally happened at long last. Thing, you owe me fifty. Pay up, my friend." The imp watched money trade between Thing and Gomez, too relieved about having confessed to care about being the subject of a bet.

"Yes, yes, happy times." The heavy sarcasm was plain in Rumple's voice. "But will you help me? It's been… ages since I've courted someone. Milah somehow… happened. She made most of the work there. And Belle is… she is…"

He trailed off, losing himself momentarily to a daydream of the little sun fairy. Gomez smiled, taking a new cigar and carefully using a guillotine-inspired cigar cutter to slice of its head.

"Never you worry, cousin. You're in good hands."

The imp really, really wanted to believe that, but the maniacal glint in his cousin's eyes was doing nothing for his nerves.


	5. Chapter Four

Admitting to his feelings was a relief, in a way. Lying to himself was too much of a hassle, in any case, and it never helped any. And confessing to his cousin meant not having to come up with ridiculous excuses to mope around his house while trying to remain unseen. It did, however, mean that he had to deal with his cousins "subtle" prompts and comments regarding the proper way to court a woman. He spoke often of being daring and upfront, saying women loved confidence and "hutzpah" and that he needed to be a debonair daredevil. Taking into account how utterly unimpressed Belle was by most life-or-death situations he didn't believe that to be the way to her heart.

Morticia was unhelpfully silent on the subject, and he knew she was waiting for him to go to her for advice. Fat chance, that. She could sit on her greenhouse and trim her bloody roses all she wanted, he was better off figuring things out by himself.

His first major breakthrough came from the realization he wasn't going to accomplish much by locking himself inside his large estate. Belle was outside so outside he had to go. It'd been ages since he'd walked through the neighbourhood or explored the town, but it seemed like the logical thing to do. It wasn't very productive to keep meeting Belle at Gomez's, and he rather wanted to see her in a non-life-threatening situation more conductive to conversation and getting to know one another.

He made it look like a casual encounter, of course. He wasn't about to start socializing in the off-chance that he might perhaps meet her. He knew where her store and apartment were located, and had gleaned from her one or two details about what she liked to do. It was easy enough to put on a wool-coat, some sunglasses and casually bump into her as she was closing shop.

"Good afternoon, Mr Addams." She smiled widely at him, almost looking pleased to see him out and about. "Fancy meeting you outside."

He smiled back, trying to appear more sly than shy, and fidgeted slightly with his walking stick.

"Yes, well, I'm on a mission. I've been told there's a rather spectacular shop around here that sells some remarkably good ice-cream. You wouldn't happen to know where it is, would you?"

He forced himself to exude nonchalance but thought that he was doing a rather poor job of it. Belle, however, only smiled wider.

"Oh, I love that place! It's got some wonderful flavours and… Come, I'll show you."

It was his plan all along but he still had to keep himself from startling when she looped her arm through his, guiding him. She had touched him before, of course- she was a delightfully hands-on type of person, apparently, which always left him with a strange fluttering inside- but never in public. There had been a part of him, a small, self-loathing part he kept tucked away, that had expected her to recoil from him in the open, to create some distance between them. But she had plastered herself to his side and seemed happy walking right alongside him. People stared, as they always did, being green-gold guaranteed him notoriety, and seemed puzzled by the image of a beauty strolling down the street with a beast. Some males, he could tell, glanced first at Belle, shooting her appreciative little looks that could very well get them turned into snails, and then at him, doing a rather amusing double-take and then frowning. His fingers itched to snap and see what his whimsy made of them but he resisted. His focus needed to be on Belle.

The Ice Cream parlour was quaint, he supposed, if a bit cheery for his tastes. Due to the cold weather there were only two other people eating ice-cream and he was free to peruse the selection without other people getting in the way. When Belle noticed how concentrated he seemed he had to admit to her, in a subdued voice, that he'd never eaten ice-cream before. Far from finding it funny or odd Belle just nodded, seeking no explanation.

"You're allowed to take a spoon and try each flavour at least once so select some and we'll try them out."

She grabbed a handful of plastic spoons and gave him time to make his selection. Some he discarded at once, looking too bright and peppy and full of sprinkles for his liking. Others he found intriguing.

"What's that one?" He pointed to a yellowish confection, almost gold.

"That's Zabaione. It got a lovely kick to it."

He scooped some with the tiny plastic spoon and took a bite. Liqueur, it tasted like liqueur, a bit bitter and creamy too.

"Quite good. What about this one?"

It was so dark it looked almost black, which he took to mean he'd like it.

"80% cocoa solids chocolate. Bitter and strong. I must admit I like my chocolate sweet."

She frowned a bit, her nose wrinkling in an adorable way and he almost choked. He liked the flavour, but Belle was right. It was missing some sweetness. Maybe if he spread it over her neck and licked it from there it would-

"Recommend one, dearie. Anyone you fancy."

She didn't seem to need a lot of time to think, immediately scooping up some creamy ice-cream with a sort of red sauce mixed in it. She guilelessly offered it to him and though he knew the polite, correct thing to do would be to take the spoon he simply leaned forward, letting her spoon-feed him the treat. There was a lovely submissive subtext to the whole ordeal, an abandoning of power that had him shuddering. Belle didn't seem to mind, being careful to let him lick the concoction off the spoon before she took it away. He didn't realize he'd closed his eyes till he opened them once more and saw her staring at him intently, something deep and dark inside her eyes.

"Which one was that?"

The cream was bland but the sauce added a strong, almost tangy taste that went with it very well.

"Raspberry and cream. My favourite flavour since forever." She got a wistful little smile on her face and a faraway look and his whole being tensed, aware that she was about to share some small intimacy with him. "I used to think that it looked a bit like blood on the snow when I was a child and thought it was beautiful in a very dark, strange way. I never dared tell anyone that."

She scooped a bit of the ice-cream, taking care to catch as much raspberry sauce as possible and popped it into her mouth, humming in pleasure. A bit of sauce glistened on her lower lip, and it indeed looked like blood.

She was _perfect_.

"Glad you thought to confide in me, dearie."

He ended up ordering the Zabaione with the Dark Chocolate, while Belle got the raspberry and cream and some hazelnut chocolate. He insisted on paying and they sat near the window, watching people go by and talking about the town. She was surprised to hear how little he knew of it.

"My family moves in very specific circles you could say. It's a world of its own, a bit isolated from everything else."

She nodded.

"I noticed. But why this sudden interest in the town, then?"

He fidgeted with his now-empty cone, wondering if bringing up Bae would be too soon.

"I… I have a son. And his interests differ from mine. I'm all he has so I've been trying to explore the things he wants to explore, see a bit of the world he wants to be a part of."

Opening up about Bae was hard. Confiding in other about his shortcomings regarding his son was harder. But the words seemed to just tumble out of his mouth, as if by magic. Sun fairy magic, he suspected, something to do with the way the afternoon light made Belle's hair look copper-ish and the way her lips had reddened due to the ice cream. It didn't help that she had forgone a spoon almost from the start, licking in long, smooth strokes till her ice-cream was almost gone and he was a mass of lust and wanting. What nearly undid him was that she looked like she had no idea what she was doing to him, all big eyes and innocent little gestures…

"I could help. With your son, I mean. I could, perhaps, show you around?" She had ducked her head and was looking at him from beneath her lashes. He was sure such a look could get him to kill for her. Die for her, possibly.

Damn her fairy powers.

"That… that'd be… lovely, yes."

Debonair, Gomez had said. Confident. Suave. Rumplestiltskin was pretty sure confident and suave had just gone out the window and were running far away from him, screaming. But Belle was looking quite happy, biting her lip to hide the smile on her face, so he decided he hadn't done so bad.

"Good. It's a date, then."

* * *

Meeting Belle on purpose while she was unaware of it was stressful enough. Having her know they were going to be walking around town together proved to be even worse. He took care to subdue his wardrobe to minimize the gawking and even had Bae approve of the final product. His wee boy seemed to be aware that something had changed but didn't seem inclined to pry.

"Have fun, papa."

"As long as you promise to try to maim Dove at least once today. You know it amuses him."

The boy sighed but nodded.

"I'll go get my axe. Don't worry."

He shuffled towards the shed, leaving his papa shaking his head. For all the magical potential Bae still showed reluctance to use magic and he was starting to wonder if he'd ever change his mind.

He left with enough time to walk unhurriedly to the bookshop, enjoying the faint winter sun on his skin. When he was close he spotted a rather tall man, wearing a rather dim expression and arguing with Belle, who looked even smaller than usual standing right next to such a Lurch look-alike. She didn't look happy, her body-language indicating her repressed anger and discomfort even through her cream-coloured wool coat. When she finally turned around and spotted him the relied was stark and her smile blinding.

"Rumple!"

She looked like she wanted to hug him, which made him twitch, but she contained herself, simply taking the hand not holding his walking stick when he was close enough and leaning into him, brushing her lips against his cheek. He froze in place, feeling cognitive thinking shutting down on its own accord, almost like magic. Mercifully she stepped back a second later, giving him enough space to take a deep breath and not drown in her.

"Hello, Belle. It's time for our lunch." He glanced towards the hulking human beside them with a hint of disdain. "Unless you have some urgent matter to attend to, of course."

She shook her head immediately.

"Oh, no. Gaston was just leaving. My father will need him, I'm sure." The man opened and closed his mouth several times, apparently wanting to object but not finding the mental capacity to strings letters together to form words. Lovely. "Goodbye, Gaston."

Defeated and upset the tall brute smile thinly, cast him a dirty look, and stormed off in an gangly, undignified way. The imp flickered hi fingers, unable to contain himself as he sure the oaf would trip and fall the moment he got out of their sight, away from Belle's worried gaze.

"Rumple, dearie?" Now that he had managed a bit of mischief he felt more like himself and playfully wiggled his eyebrows in her direction. "I was unaware we were in such familiar terms."

He expected her to demurely lower her gaze and apologize but she smiled shyly instead, tilting her head to the side and biting her lip, summoning all her fairy power.

"I could go back to 'Mr Addams' if it would please you."

It was instantly on the tip of his tongue to tell her of the many ways she could please him, some of them whimsical and others downright filthy. They mixed inside his head, his more innocent wishes with his darkest desires, creating a rather lovely little collage inside his mind. He pushed it aside, needing to concentrate. She'd bantered with him, he needed to respond in a similar fashion.

"No need, no need. I'll… I'll get used to it."

Not exactly a witty retort but it was grammatically correct.

They spent the day walking around. She showed him the park, the local library- her exuberance had been quite endearing- and some shops she thought his son might like. With her help he bought a soccer ball and some toy cars, aware Bae was curious about modern automobiles, and even some more… regular clothes. For the longest time Bae had been asking about getting jeans so he thought it'd be nice to surprise him with a pair. Ghastly things in his opinion but he didn't see any harm in the boy owning some.

"Interesting fabric, but nothing can compare to leather for me."

He poked at the jeans, knowing the salesgirl was gawking at him. Belle, however, laughed.

"I'm beginning to see the appeal of leather, but jeans can be quite comfortable. And they can look nice too. I'll show you some time."

Having skipped lunch she cajoled him into trying out a little diner nearby. He eyed the establishment with distaste, but followed her in all the same. Almost at once he felt eyes on him and glanced over the counter to find an old woman glaring at him over the rim of her glasses. Besides her was a scantily-clad young brunette who greeted Belle with enthusiasm.

"There you are, you little bookworm! What have I told you about all work and no play?"

She got the their side of the counter and threw her arms over Belle, hugging her exuberantly. The petite brunette replied with a more subdued form of enthusiasm. Nearby the old hag was still glaring at him.

"Hi, Ruby, nice to see you too. And hi, Granny."

The old woman smiled for half a second before her frown was back in place.

"You're an Addams." It wasn't a question so he didn't feel compelled to answer. "We don't serve your kind. I'll have to ask you to kindly remove yourself from my establishment."

It wasn't quite so shocking. He bowed mockingly to the old matron, letting a glint of malice show in his face.

"As you wish, madam." He turned to Belle, who looked confused at what had just happened. "My dear, I think it's better if I go. You seem quite content catching up with your friend, best we call it a day."

He had been careless, had forgotten about the trappings that came with being an Addams, and he'd caused a problem for Belle. He needed to go before it escalated.

"Wait. I… I can't let you go alone. It's not right. Granny, surely…"

The old woman shook her head.

"I'm sorry, Belle, but he has to go. It's best for everyone."

He was almost at the entrance when he felt an arm slip around his.

"I'm not in the mood for diner food anymore. Ruby, I'll call you later and we'll arrange something with the girls, okay?"

She threw a smile behind before she pushed the door open and practically dragged him outside.

"Belle, really, you don't need to…"

"It's alright. I need to pick up a few books at the Addams's anyway and maybe catch up with Morticia. Come on, escort me like a gentleman."

He relented, trying not to show how relieved and gleeful he was that she'd picked him. That she had taken his arm and stood by his side, effectively showing she was _on_ his side. He pulled her a bit closer, muttering something about the chill, and repressed the urge to giggle and preen. He needed to play it cool, to be suave.

It didn't even bother him the way Lurch lit up at the sight of Belle, or the care with which he removed her coat, basking in the smile he got in return. He accompanied her to the library, checking surreptitiously for death traps of any kind on the way. Once in the library he let her gather her books, going to study a rather jittery suit of armour in a corner.

"Belle?"

He turned around when he heard the small voice, watching as a floofy-haired boy- his floofy-haired boy- jogged into the library, stopping a few feet away from the brunette. She immediately put the books back on the table and bent down to kiss the boy's hair, kneeling next to him.

"Hi, Bae. It's been a while."

The boy nodded shyly, letting the woman comb through his hair and ask about Nanny and his grades at school. He watched transfixed, unwilling to let his son know he was there. He'd never seen Bae interact with anyone outside the family in such a way. When had he met Belle? How? And how had it never occurred to him that he had?

The suit of armour rattled loudly behind him and suddenly both Belle and Bae were looking at him. He felt, somehow, like an intruder, which was ridiculous. That was his child and his… Belle.

"Papa?"

The sun fairy's puzzled expression let him know she'd had no idea that Baelfire was his son. After all he'd never mentioned his name. The child waved at his father.

"'ello, papa. Mrs Addams invited me for dinner. I left a note."

He looked from him to Belle and back, a speculative gleam settling in his eyes. Belle seemed not to notice the devious air around him.

"You came to tell me something, Bae?"

The boy nodded, his shaggy hair obscuring his face once more. Patiently Belle combed it back. Rumplestiltskin felt a pang deep inside him and absentmindedly rubbed the skin above his heart, as if it hurt.

"Mrs Addams wanted to know if you were staying. She said it'd be nice if you did."

There was such a beguiling look on Bae that it'd been difficult to deny the little tyke anything. Apparently the boy wanted her to stay, desperately. With morbid curiosity he awaited Belle's answer, wondering what she'd say.

"Tell me, Bae, did Grandma Frump have _Grey's Anatomy_ opened beside _The Joy of Cooking_?"

The kid shook his head and the sun fairy smiled.

"I'd be delighted to stay for dinner. Go and tell Morticia, I'll be with her in a moment."

His son, at last, remembered his father standing nearby.

"You'll be staying too, papa?"

The question was worded as a statement and the way his son's eyes shone let him know the rest.

"Of course, Bae."

He smiled widely.

"I'll go tell Mrs Addams. By the way, you should stay away from the downstairs drawing room. Very far away. Wednesday and Pugsley have been playing there."

He gave his father a pointed look and a new, unexpected sort of kinship formed between them. Apparently he wasn't the only one in the business of keeping Belle French alive.

It was an interesting development, to say the least.

"He's your son?"

The boy was already out of the room when Belle approached him. He cocked his head to the side.

"What, dearie, don't you recognize my dashing looks in him? A bit of my sparkling personality, perhaps?"

He made a rather silly hand gesture which got her to laugh and grab his arm.

"Stop it! But, in all seriousness, he's a lovely boy. Smart as a whip and very polite. Very helpful too. Not surprising, now that I know who his father is."

She ducked her head down, looking at him from beneath her lashes and biting her lip once more before turning around to exit the library. It was when he was about to follow her that a terrifying realization dawned on him.

_She was flirting with him_. Her little gestures, her coy glances and light touches were part of some intricate, dangerous sun fairy mating dance.

And he had _no _idea how to respond.


	6. Chapter Five

**AN: For those who don't know I have big, big things happening in real life so I won't be able to write anymore until October. It doesn't mean I'm abandoning anything, everything will be picked up again in three weeks or so. Bye!**

* * *

Her flirting changed everything. It left him once more adrift, lost. He was already out of his depth, courting a woman outside of his comfort zone by several thousand miles. As much as Belle seemed to adore the darkness, his darkness, she was a being of light, scorching him in a way that was both unsettling and delightful. To pursue her was already fraying his nerves, having her pursue back was sure to kill him.

Seeking Morticia was unavoidable at that point. He needed guidance, needed advice from someone with a real insight into Belle. Morticia had managed to form a tight friendship with his little sun fairy, surely she'd be able to tell her what to do to woo her when she was trying to woo him.

Crawling on metaphorical hands and knees wasn't a pleasant experience, and the awful woman made sure to drag the torture out over a two-hour tea where she refused to talk about anything other than the weather and the appalling decrease in virginal sacrifices to Hecate over the last few years. The problem, it seemed, was that today's young witches were in a rush to frolic with the demons of the night, not taking the time to savour the earlier parts of their initiation.

While the alchemist in him agreed that the shortage of blessed virginal blood was bound to become a serious issue in the future- it was already driving the price of a pint-sized bottle up every month- the other side, the side sighing over Belle's perfect hair and wondering how Belle's blood would look sliding down her neck from a loving cut on her throat, was eager to get to the damn point.

"More nightshade tea, Rumple?"

The offering was like a slap in the face, Morticia's demure eyes in stark conflict with the edges of a wicked smirk painted on her lips. He growled, one grand gesture of his hand vanishing the entire tea set.

"Enough of pleasantries, dearie. You know why I'm here. The question is... will you help me or not?"

She placed her hands primly on her lap, as serene as a cold winter night.

"You will have to specify your problem, cousin Rumple. I can't help you otherwise."

She was enjoying it immensely. If it was any other situation he wouldn't give her the satisfaction. But circumstances being what they were he needed to suck it up and speak before he burst.

"She's flirting, Ticia!" His tone was laced with incredulity and a touch of accusation, as if flirting was a capital crime. "She does this thing where she lowers her eyes and looks at me from beneath her lashes and my blood starts boiling. And she touches me! All the time! Her hands ghost over my arms, brush against my side and whisper over my chest and I can't..." He was beginning to hyperventilate, hardly noticing he'd gotten up and was now pacing around the greenhouse. His body felt alive with nervous energy from just the memory of Belle's coquettish overtures.

"And she smiles, genuinely and fully and I swear there's fairy magic on her lips because they... the things they do to me... _The things I want to do to them_..."

Just thinking of her was driving him wild, his accent thickening and his hands clenching and unclenching, feeling empty.

"She's so soft and when she presses against me something shuts down inside my head and I forget the English language entirely. How am I supposed to woo her, to enthral her, when I cannot even talk to her half the time?"

When he'd set out to court her he'd envisioned a slow, languorous seduction, a gradual surrendering of the light to the dark. Instead she was burning him and he was coming undone in the worst and best ways. A part of him, admittedly, felt giddy about having little to no control of the situation, wishing to surrender completely to Belle, follow her into the depths of Hell as long as she smiled at him in that coy, promising way. Another part, quite a vocal one, adamantly persisted on reminding him what had happened the last time he'd gone looking for the unknown, for what lay beyond the boundaries of his social circle.

He could feel Morticia's insidious little smile from across the room and try not to let it show. No need to feed her smugness. He waited for her to speak, to be content with what he'd bared of himself and take the pound of flesh as payment for a few words of wisdom. Still she remained quiet and expectant, calm as the dead.

Damn Morticia.

"Dearest, loveliest cousin, who looks so becomingly pale and languishing in the moonlight, do take pity on a desperate soul seeking your advice and put the fool out of his misery."

Sarcasm was the only way he could salvage some of his dignity. Morticia's smile slayed the rest of it, turning it to dust. She gestured to the chair in front of him, looking like a queen giving a lowly peasant permission to sit in her grand presence. He did so reluctantly, wanting his efforts to bear fruit. His cousin's wife leaned forward, all-knowing.

"Level the playing field, dear cousin. Draw her into our world, show it to her. She's thirsting to see it, and you'd thrive in your natural environment, give you the confidence you need to engage her. Belle has but dipped her toe into the waters but she's already more than intrigued. Be her guide, introduce her to everything she's ever been missing..."

Seduction lay thick in her voice, the words painting a tantalizing picture. He imagined his sun fairy's glow slightly tainted by the faintest hint of darkness, a permanent mark of his world on her. To be the one to do it, to expose her so, would be...

Glorious.

"How... how do you suggest I do that?"

Morticia tilted her head to the side, her smile pleasant but her eyes wicked.

"Invite her to an evening at _Enfers_. There's always a live orchestra and the ambience is ripe for some harmless debauchery. Belle will love it."

Her seal of approval was all it took for him to embrace the idea.

* * *

She liked to think she was only wearing them as a show of support to Bae. She'd been irrevocably charmed when Rumple had asked for her help buying his son jeans and with his determination to buy them even though he clearly did not approve of the garment, that she'd thought opportune to wear a pair of her own jeans to show him how comfortable they were.

That, however, didn't explain why out of all the pairs of jeans she owned she'd chosen her dark blue skinny jeans, the ones that looked painted on her. Her nude peep-toes and the soft, airy loose shirt, a soft peach rose colour showed off by the mandatory nude camisole beneath, did nothing to soften the look, seeming to even draw more attention to just how very flattering the denim looked wrapped tightly around her legs.

Ruby had convinced her to purchase those jeans but she tried not to think about it. Lately her friend, all of her friends, seemed to tiptoe around her, look at her strangely. She was pretty sure it had all started when she'd walked into Granny's in the arm of Rumple Addams, but so far no one had dared say anything to her and she wasn't in the mood to discuss it. If anyone had anything to say they better gather the courage to talk to her in the first place. The only one who seemed to keep her mouth shut out of respect instead of cowardice was Emma.

She was a bit disappointed when she arrived at the Addams's and Rumple wasn't there, but the library soon had all of her attention. She itched to find out more about the books, and how they'd come to acquire their... special characteristics. Had they been made that way? Was there a bookbinder out there specialized in books who honoured their titles in strange, unexpected ways? Could there be a special, underground sort of clientele, completely untapped but bursting with potential? It'd certainly be a fascinating venue to explore, and add an extra layer to her title of "rare books dealer".

"Fancy meeting you here, Be-"

In the Addams household if someone didn't finish a sentence a near-death situation was likely to be involved, to everyone's satisfaction. Belle turned as quickly as she could while atop a ladder, her eyes immediately finding Rumple's. He wasn't looking at her, though, at least not her face. His gaze was riveted to her legs, displayed nicely by the way she was perched on the ladder in spite of having to forgo her heels just in case. He looked like a man starved upon spotting some sort of feast and it was indecent how a simple look could have her instantly aroused.

"Hi, Rumple."

He choked out something that vaguely resembled words and she stifled a laugh, feminine pride blooming at the thought that she'd rendered such a clever man speechless. Bae trotted into the room, wearing his own jeans and a linen, old-style shirt. The combination was rather fetching.

"Hi, Belle!"

She climbed down, her feet barely touching the carpet before the boy's arms wrapped themselves around her waist. It was difficult to remember this had been the same kid she'd had to carefully lure closer for weeks before he'd let her as much as touch a single strand of his hair. He let go a bit too soon for her liking but she didn't push for more, content with what she had.

"Hi Bae. Those jeans look really good on you."

The boy blushed adorably, hiding most of his face with the help of his floofy hair. A shyly-pleased smile spread across his face, and Belle could see he was fighting the urge to fidget.

"Thank you, Belle. Papa told me you helped him pick them out."

Rumplestiltskin made a noncommittal high-pitched sound that was meant to pass as speech. His eyes were still wide as saucers and nowhere near her face. It was difficult to reconcile the stunned mute in front of her with the coy dealmaker she knew him to be.

She stepped into her nude pumps, trying not to tumble onto the floor when she heard a pained little whimper escape the imp before her. She had never seen such a... strong reaction to skinny jeans, and she was starting to feel guilty for putting them on in the first place. Ridiculous, except that Rumple still had to snap out of his stupor.

It was finally Bae who jolted him out of his state, letting him know he was going to look for Wednesday and Pugsley. Apparently the kids had a new set of hunting knives they wanted to show him. His father made another pitiful little whimper in response and Bae had to hit him hard on the side to get a more coherent answer out of him.

"You... you go have fun, Bae. Remember not to run without knives."

The strangest sort of silence settled on the library after the boy was gone, Belle hopeful and expectant and Rumple too tongue-tied to say anything. Feeling confident and in-charge she slowly, gently, drew him into conversation, asking about the books and their unique properties. Fortunately it seemed to be a subject he knew plenty about and soon he was enthusiastically explaining the origin and evolution of "rare books". He gestured wildly and flitted about, absorbed in the subject and at ease with it. The clock interrupted him in the middle of a fascinating description of the alchemical process behind producing the ink for those books. It was six o'clock and Belle had promised to have supper with her father.

"I'm sorry but I can't be late. Dad's a bit sensitive about things like that. But it was a wonderful afternoon."

She smiled, trying to convey with the gesture how much she wanted to stay. On impulse she reached out to softly run one hand down his right arm, a spontaneous gesture she regretted immediately, thinking it too forward. She was surprised then when he reached out, catching her hand with his.

"Wait!" He suddenly seemed nervous and panicky again, and Belle wondered what on Earth could have cause him to revert back to... "Have dinner with me. Please."

Oh.

_Oh_.

"Yes."

He seemed startled by the notion she had agreed, and seeing him unsettled by her acceptance made her heart melt.

"Friday night?"

She nodded once more.

"I'll pick you up around... seven?"

She nodded one last time, smiling and waving goodbye before exiting the library, feeling his eyes on her back acutely. Making a mental note to call her father to let him know she'd be late Belle bypassed the main hall to slip into the hothouse, relieved to find Morticia there trimming flowers and playing Tchaikovsky's "Pathetique" to Cleopatra, who seemed to be down with the flu.

"Belle, my dear, so nice of you to stop by."

The younger woman smiled wobbly and sat down on one of the elegant garden chairs, looking frazzled.

"I think I need your help."

The raven-haired woman smiled all-knowingly, pouring tea into a silver cup with slow, exquisite precision.

"I had a feeling you would. Sugar or arsenic?"

* * *

It was a cold night, but experience assured him that _Enfers_ would be quite hot, no risk of Belle getting sick. He fidgeted with his brocade vest for what it seemed like the hundredth time, hoping that Belle, sitting beside him swaddled in a soft-looking cashmere coat, didn't notice. She seemed to be quite busy looking out the window, watching as, slowly, the quaint, all-American little town was left behind, the old, sleek Bentley running smooth across a darkened road that seemed to be deserted. She didn't seem to mind the increasingly-creepy bare trees, or the occasional bat that flew low. He took advantage of her distraction to admire her profile, wanting to get his fill of her so he'd become somehow desensitized to her sun-fairy beauty.

So far it wasn't working.

He breathed a sigh of relief when he helped her out of the car and her eyes lit up when she spotted the entrance to the restaurant. It was an old-fashioned underground bistro, a cavern-like room with a rather unwelcoming exterior, but Belle seemed to look upon it as an adventure. They were escorted inside by a maitre d' and immediately they were ensconced in delicious, decadent heat. It was fairly dark, the glow of the candles not quite managing to light up the entire room. Belle, on the other hand, seemed to glow from within, so bright and pure amidst the darkness he thought he might not survive the night.

Then she took off her coat and he knew for sure.

It was as if someone had turned the sky into lace and wrapped it tightly around her body, completely forgetting her legs or his sanity. The prim cap sleeves and high-neck gave a hint of tantalizing demureness, while the hemline, jagged and short and perfect, let his eyes feast on her bare legs, legs he'd been dreaming of ever since he'd been introduced to the notion of skinny jeans and coronaries.

"It's so... decadent."

Ne nodded dumbly. It was that.

As she looked around while the waiter made sure their table was ready he fought to remember how to breathe, whimpering when she turned around and he got a look at her half-bared back. Turning to look away he spotted several men's gazes riveted on his little fairy, drinking her down like she was some exquisite wine they had been served. Letting anger make him brave he took advantage of the fact that the maître d' was ready to escort them to their table to slip an arm around her waist, the gesture completely polite and gentlemanly if it weren't for the way his hand caressed her hip, a possessive move that, thankfully, she didn't seem to mind.

Sitting, he supposed, was a blessing, since the long red tablecloth safely covered her lower half, but a pang of disappointment washed over him. Sure it was nice having the ability to talk back but he found he rather missed being under the spell of her legs. He'd have to settle for mooning over her eyes, and her long, inviting neck.

Oh, well.

Her smile was genuine as her eyes flitted about, wanting to take it all in, from the live orchestra to the couples already on the dance floor, fur and silk adorning the women, the men in tails, Edwardian dinner jackets and dress coats, some sporting oriental touches or altogether foreign, exotic looks. In here he looked quite at home in his element and it was Belle with her flickering light and her sky blue dress that was different, odd. It didn't seem, however, to make her uncomfortable in the least. If anything it seemed to make her... happy.

"Mr Addams, always a pleasure to have you around. Though it's been a while."

A man materialized in front of them, tall and of unidentified Oriental aspect, possibly Indian, wearing a luscious green banyan, the silk sporting subtle designs and giving off light gold tints when the light hit it just right, and a red and gold turban-style cap. His expression was unreadable, mostly due to his impressive moustache which seemed to command the attention.

"Ah, and you've brought company. Lovely one, at that."

It was then that the edges of a smile peeked out from beneath the facial hair, and his eyes softened a bit. Rumple huffed, for some reason rather peeved that someone other than him was falling victim to Belle's fairy-ness. Still he remembered his manners, introducing the owner of _Enfers_, half-Indian and half-French Nilam Saunier to his date. Nilam made what he was sure were polite comments about Belle's ravishing beauty- here he had to remember his promise to Bae not to turn anyone into a snail because, apparently, "girls don't like that"- before making some recommendations regarding food.

The menu was written in a myriad of languages but, quite unsurprisingly, Belle seemed to have no problems ordering, speaking Latin in a way that seemed to suggest she used it all the time to order roast tuna with mint and garum sociorum, the most exquisite of the famous ancient roman fish sauces and a small bottle of honeyed wine. He was unable to resist shivering upon hearing her handle the dead tongue with such ease. He imagined whispering filthy things to her in the ancient language, watching her blush and give him that coquettish little look from beneath her lashes that drove him wild in return.

He quickly barked out an order, Nilam making himself scarce at once. Their drinks arrived promptly enough, and she laughed in unabashed delight when he shyly levitated the bottle to pour her drink. Conversation flowed easily from then on and through the main course, the candlelight, soft music and secluded position of their table encouraging the exchange of intimacies. She told him about her life growing up, losing her mother when she was five and living with an overly-protective father whose love sometime felt like a cage.

"It was never his intention but growing up I felt so... stifled. Like I couldn't breathe. Then I just became used to it. The books helped escape but it wasn't until I moved away that I could relax and be myself. Be brave, have adventures. Meet wonderful people."

She smiled in that coy, devilish little way he'd come to expect and adore. He didn't care if he was falling victim to her fairy powers. He'd be her most willing victim, her happy little slave, if she'd only let him.

In return he told her, haltingly, about Bae, about his fears that he wasn't enough for his son, which led him to talk about his tentative steps towards exploring her world, the world Bae wanted to be a part of. His willingness to be vulnerable was rewarded with kindness and soft hands covering his own, travelling up his arms every now and then to reassure him. It felt surprisingly good to unburden himself, going as far as to disclose one or two things about Milah and the train wreck that was their relationship. He couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice, regretting bringing the matter up at all. He was happy when the appearance of the waiter to collect their dishes interrupted their conversation.

The dessert selection of the night was Spanish, so Belle ordered natillas, a custard concoction made with milk, sugar, vanilla and eggs, completely caramelized on top. She found the novelty exciting, cracking open the dessert with her spoon and letting out a decadent little moan of pleasure when she tasted the first spoonful. He feigned never having tasted the dish just so that she'd spoon-feed him like she had so long ago at the ice-cream shop, delighting in the way some of the males eating nearby seemed to look at him with envy. When he offered her some of his tocino de cielo in return he almost dropped the spoon when she leaned forward, closed her eyes, and opened her mouth. His hand shook as he fed her in return, fighting to keep himself from sweeping everything off the table and just having his wicked way with her on top of it.

When the dessert dishes were cleared the waiter offered them a digestif. As was his custom Rumple ordered a glass of absinthe, finding the cold beverage soothing and invigorating. Belle bit her lip, took a deep breath, and ordered the same.

"I've always wanted to try it, but the opportunity never arose. You wouldn't mind teaching me, would you?"

He wouldn't mind teaching her a lot of things and, coincidentally, most of them were even better after a glass of absinthe. On the other hand he didn't know if he could handle a sun fairy and a green one at the same time. He took a chance when the drinks arrived, showing her how to select a sugar cube to place on top of the slotted spoons they'd been given, then placing the spoon on the glass filled with a measure of the green spirit. Then he helped her drip iced water slowly over the cube. The result was a cloudy drink with a pleasant herbal aroma that Belle studied for a little while before bravely taking a sip.

"It's not as bitter as I thought. It has a rather strong floral flavour, very pleasant." She paused and smiled rather dreamily. "And it goes to the head rather quickly. Not unpleasant at all."

He smiled, downing his own drink and signalling the waiter for more. He had three glasses and Belle one and a half, the strong alcoholic content keeping her from finishing her second glass. He let the haze of alcohol take hold of him, allowing him to follow an impulse he'd been squashing all night and asking Belle to dance. Though she seemed to be having trouble standing she agreed with enthusiasm, draping herself over him to stay upright as they swayed to the tune the band played, the song reminding Belle of a Cole Porter or an Ivor Novello piece. Under the pretence of helping her he pulled her even closer, making a pleased little sound when she tucked her head beneath his chin, over his shoulder. He knew people were watching. He was quite notorious, the infamous Addams recluse, and he was holding pure, untainted light in his arms as delicately as if she was made of spun glass. He couldn't seem to care, though. Let them look.

When she started humming close to his ear he almost lost his composure, breathing raggedly as she all but nuzzled against his throat. His right hand, poised on her back, moved to caress her softly, completely forgetting the little bare patches of skin. His fingertips slid from lace to skin, warm and smooth as silk and he whimpered, clawing at the last shreds of his self-control. He needed to take things slow, to woo her bit by bit, patiently and elaborately.

Fresh air. He needed fresh air before he made a fool of himself in the middle of the dance floor. Carefully he disentangled her from him, feeling a pang when her warmth was gone. She looked a bit dazed, and gladly accepted his suggestion to go to the terrace for a little bit of air. Terrace was a fancy word for a nook of stone with a railway atop a staircase carved into the rock, but the view was very pleasant and the fresh air would clear his head and hers. Helping a tipsy Belle in impressive stilettos climb a steep set of stairs was quite a feat, involving a lot of tantalizing touching, but though it seemed to last forever at some point they arrived on the balcony. Belle leaned against one of the uneven stone walls, warm due to two discrete flame heaters located inside carved niches. She stared at the rather impressive view, the dark forest they'd driven through almost obscuring the town further behind.

"It's beautiful out here."

He could only gaze at her and nod, the vista completely lost on him. She was smiling softly, looking relaxed and happy and glowing faintly from within. He wanted to kiss her then, steal some of that light, swallow it and feel it warm him from the inside out. Regretfully she turned around, leaning slightly against the balustrade. Safety, he told himself, was what made him stand directly behind her, their bodies touching lightly. Somehow it felt a hundred times more intimate than their dancing moments ago.

"What..." Belle's voice was tentative, a whisper. "What made you a recluse? I don't mean to intrude but I don't understand. You're so... so interesting. So witty. It seems like such a waste."

His hands found her waist again, curling on her sides and drawing her closer to his body. He felt cold, and she was so warm, and smelt to good. He took a deep breath, bending his head slightly to fill his lungs with the scent of her hair, citrusy and lightly floral.

"What happened... is I'm a difficult man to love."

He felt her tremble and blamed the night breeze even as she turned her head slightly and leaned back against him. Far from clearing his head was getting fuzzier and fuzzier, trapped in her innocent, artless charm.

_Consume her_, a voice whispered in his ear, wicked and beguiling, _make her yours. Take her._

He took a deep, shuddery breath, his nerves fraying. She turned around then, leaving the circle of his arms to lean back against the carved wall.

"I had a lovely evening, Rumple. The restaurant, the people, the food... I'm in awe." She turned to look at him, her eyes beckoning him closer, telling him he wouldn't be rejected, wouldn't be unwelcomed. "This world- your world- is fascinating."

"You're fascinating."

He blurted it out without quite meaning to, the alcohol and the memory of her warmth spurring him on. He didn't want to pretend anymore he wasn't completely enthralled by her. He wanted to give in.

"You... You glow. You radiate something, I don't know what, that makes my head spin when you smile and seeps into my bones when you touch me. It's like... magic. Fairy magic." He leant against the wall, towering slightly over her but she didn't seem to mind. So close he could feel the spark of whatever she had making his skin tingle and his heart stutter. Tentatively he lowered his head, hungry and desperate.

"I bet you taste like sunlight. Will you let me taste you, Belle?"

He felt her hands cradle his face, guiding him the scant centimetres that separated them till his open mouth met hers tentatively at first but gaining confidence when she wrapped her arms around his shoulders taking a hold of his nape to pull him closer and devour him. The other hand she used it to brace herself on his shoulder and reach him fully, tipping her head to the side to get the angle just right. He submitted with a rush of relief, digging his fingers into her lower back and then inching upwards till he found supple skin to feast on. He answered her enthusiasm with desperation, pressing her close and dipping his tongue inside her welcoming mouth, caressing the roof till he felt her mewl rub up against him. He keened when he felt her grab fistfuls of his hair, tugging and stroking at the same time like she knew exactly the correct combination to drive him insane.

It was frenzied and languid at the same time, intense and delicate and utterly mind-blowing. He was drinking her down like a man dying of thirst, gladly letting her guide him through the steps of the intricate mating dance characteristic of her kind, holding the reigns but soft and generous with her dominance. When their lips parted with a delicious, wet little "pop" it was only they could somehow regain their breath before diving in again, Rumple almost biting his tongue off when Belle's right foot travelled up his calf, her leg wrapping around his hip as best it could. She huffed when the position proved to be problematic to maintain, shimming out of his arms only to sit atop the balustrade and cradle him between her thighs, trusting his arms to keep her safe as he bent her over attacked the exposed skin of her neck.

"Please, please, tell me to stop. I need you to tell me to stop, Belle."

He sounded in pain and slightly frightened. Never had he felt so out of control, so adrift. Her hands came to cradle his head once more, her nose nuzzling him softly before she smiled.

"Stop."

She combed her hands through his hair soothingly, murmuring comforting nonsense. She wasn't displease, nor hurt. She'd trusted him and he'd come through. Her swollen lips and dilated pupils spoke of how he'd tainted her, but her soft smile and quiet radiance let him know he hadn't spoiled her.

"Let's call it a night. It's rather late and Dove must be very tired."

* * *

She let him guide her securely down the stairs and drape her coat around her. Throwing one last, smug look around the bistro, he placed one hand on her lower back and escorted her out into the car, uncaring that Dove saw them necking like teenagers all the way to her house. The man knew to keep his mouth shut if he wished for his shameful little collection of ceramic unicorns to remain a secret.


End file.
